Solitary Confinement
by Lif61
Summary: With Sam in solitary confinement after being arrested for attempted assassination of the president of the United States, Lucifer thinks it's a wonderful idea to send him visions again.
1. Part One

**A/N: Mentions of rape.**

* * *

Two weeks. That's how long it'd been since Sam and Dean had been arrested for attempted assassination of the president of the United States. They'd been arrested before, but this was different. There was no way out of this one. To make matters worse, Sam and Dean had been separated. Missing his brother was one thing that sucked for Sam, but there was another thing that sucked so much more. Since he was in solitary confinement, Lucifer thought it was a good idea to send him visions again.

When they had started Sam did anything he could to block them out, but nothing worked. He'd tried ignoring them, but that ultimately failed, because how could he ignore the headaches they brought, or the way they made his heart beat quickly with fear, or the way they made it difficult to sleep? Lucifer seemed hell bent on torturing him.

In some visions Sam was helpless, only able to watch the disturbing scenes Lucifer sent to him, and in others, he _felt_ what Lucifer imagined he was doing to him. Still worse were the visions where Lucifer projected himself into Sam's cell, making it seem like he was there with him, physical sensations and all. Which is what he was doing now. In all the visions he made himself look like his old vessel from the apocalypse, the one with the blond hair and the dull blue eyes.

Sam lay on his cot, staring at the ceiling as he tried to ignore him.

"Sam, why don't you wanna talk to me?" the Devil whined, sounding like a petulant child.

"Leave me alone," he said through gritted teeth.

Lucifer moved to sit on the cot, and even though he wasn't really there, Sam shifted his legs to the side, making room for him.

"Nah. You're too fun."

Sam eyed him, which was a bad idea seeing as the smile on Lucifer's face made a chill run down his spine. He looked back to the ceiling, silently wishing that Lucifer would just leave him alone. This reminded him all too of when he'd been hallucinating him a few years back.

 _I wonder if he even knows that happened to me._

"I must say," Lucifer began, running a finger up along his calf, "this stupid blue outfit they put you in doesn't look that great on you."

"No kidding," Sam agreed.

Lucifer ran his hand further up Sam's leg, and Sam tried to ignore the sensation of his fingers pressing against him, but he failed at that. His heart beat fiercely from Lucifer touching him like this.

"How about I take it off for you?"

Sam gave him a warning growl, and brushed Lucifer's hand away before sitting up. He scooted to the far side of the bed, making sure he was as far away from him as he could get.

The Devil sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Fine, fine. I get it. You don't like me."

"That's an understatement," Sam said bitterly.

Lucifer let out a dramatic sigh before projecting himself behind Sam, one arm now wrapping around his shoulders as he draped himself on him. Sam stiffened immediately from his touch. He knew if he tried to move away, that Lucifer would only use his superior strength to hold him against him, so Sam remained still, trying to control his erratic breathing.

"Come on, Sam," he purred in his ear. "What's not to like? I'm funny, strong, smart."

"Don't forget the part where you're the freakin' Devil."

"Semantics, Sam," Lucifer breathed. "That's all it is. Sure, people call me the Devil, but who cares?" Before Sam could reply Lucifer sighed. "Oh, that's right, you do. You know, that's what makes you so… annoying."

"Annoying?"

"You only look at the surface of who I am."

"Okay, sure."

"You don't think so?"

Sam turned to him, and Lucifer changed the way he held him. "Let's not forget that you tortured me."

Lucifer leaned his head on his shoulder. "But that was _fun_."

Sam shivered as memories flashed through his head, but he was able to tamp them down before they took over.

"For you," Sam retorted quietly.

Instantly, Lucifer was now in front of him, and his hand shot out, slapping him across the face. Lucifer grabbed him in a bruising grip, making him look at him. He got real close, so close that his breath wafted over him when he spoke.

"Don't pretend that you didn't enjoy some of our time together," he growled out. "I know you did."

"I didn't."

"Have you forgotten what those years in the Cage were like, Sam? All those times I took you and made you scream my name? Huh, did you forget about that?"

Sam glared daggers at him, forcing back horrific memories. "Believe me, I remember. And I remember how I _hated_ every damn second of it."

Lucifer slammed Sam back against the wall and straddled him. Fear pumped wildly through his blood, making him feel cold and hot at the same time. He tried to turn away from Lucifer, but he just grabbed his face again.

"Don't lie," he hissed.

"I'm not lying, you delusional bastard!"

That earned him another slap in the face that left him reeling. His bottom lip stung, and he felt the warmth of his own blood on him. He knew that when Lucifer finally decided to leave him alone that there would be no signs of him ever having been touched. He just hoped that he didn't decide to use that to his advantage.

"Come on, Sam," he growled. "Don't you miss this? Don't you miss _us_?"

"I'd only miss it if I enjoyed getting tortured," Sam retorted.

In a second he found himself regretting that because Lucifer leaned closer, and before Sam could do anything, he pressed his lips to his. Sam tried pushing him away, a muffled scream leaving him, but it was no use.

His lip stung as Lucifer licked at the wound, and then he pulled back. Sam breathed heavily as he tried to get his bearings.

"You don't even miss that?" he asked quietly.

" _Never._ "

Despite his anger growing as Sam had thought it would, he sighed, and slipped off of his lap.

"Fine. I can see you're not in the mood. But don't worry, Sammy, I'll be back later." Lucifer winked, and then he was gone, and with him, the pain from the blows he'd received.

Sam leaned his head back against the concrete wall, closing his eyes. This was just the beginning.


	2. Part Two

Two weeks. That's how long it'd been since Sam and Dean had been arrested for attempted assassination of the president of the United States. They'd been arrested before, but this was different. There was no way out of this one. To make matters worse, Sam and Dean had been separated. Missing his brother was one thing that sucked for Dean, but there was another thing that sucked so much more. Since he was in solitary confinement, he couldn't help his brother.

The guards had tried convincing Dean that Sam was fine and that they weren't hurting him, but that was extremely hard to believe when the sound of his brother's screams reached him through the concrete wall.

One time it started up in the middle of the night. At first Dean thought he'd been having a nightmare, but when he awoke the screams still didn't stop.

When he moved, the sensor in the cell was alerted and the light switched on. Dean was up on his knees, his hands against the wall. God, how he wanted to smash his way through the concrete to get to him.

"Sammy!" he yelled.

Maybe he didn't yell loud enough. Dean knew it was stupid; he was trying to shout through concrete and over Sam's screams.

" _Sammy!_ "

His little brother still didn't quiet down. Dean's blood boiled, his heart racing. He needed to get to Sam. He needed to save his brother from whatever horrors were being done to him.

Instinct took over, pushing logic to the back of his mind. Frantically, he looked around for anything he could use to get to Sam. When there was nothing he slammed his fist against the wall.

"Damn it!"

Then, Dean's gaze fixated on his fist. He did have something. Without much thought to it he started punching the wall in between them, over and over again and over again. He had to get to Sam. Pain didn't register, and neither did the cracks of his breaking knuckles, or the blood that was now dripping down his hands and staining the wall.

"It's okay, Sam!" he cried. "I'm coming!"

It hurt so much to hear his brother's screams. He almost wanted to stab his eardrums so he would no longer be forced to listen to that terrible sound.

A minute of his frantic battle with the concrete wall passed before the pain kicked in. Dean let out a cry of his own, letting his hands fall to his sides. His throat ached and tears stained his cheeks. He leaned his forehead against the cold wall, a sob building up in his throat.

"It's okay, Sam," he murmured. "I'm here. I'm here. I'm gonna kill whoever's doing this to you. I'm gonna get out. I'm gonna get us both out. I'm gonna take care of you, you hear me? You're gonna be okay, Sammy." Now Dean did sob. "Y-y-you ha-have t-to be okay!"

His little brother's screams were starting to sound more rough and raw; he was losing his voice. Dean just sobbed.

"Stop hurting him!" he yelled.

He didn't know who was doing this to him. The few guards he'd talked to had said that nothing was being done to Sam, but how could they say that? How could they lie to his face when he heard his screams? How could anyone hear that and think Sam was okay? He was anything but.

"Please!" he cried.

Despite the awful burning and throbbing pain in his hands, he punched the wall one last time, an angry, primal scream leaving him.

When that did nothing he slumped against the wall, more sobs shaking his shoulders.

He stayed like that, crying till his tears ran dry. Sam's screams eventually died down, and Dean thought that if he listened hard enough he could hear him sobbing.

He pressed a bloodied and broken hand against the wall, his heart breaking for his brother. He felt so weak and helpless. Sam was suffering, and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

"I'm here, Sammy. I'm here…"


End file.
